poetsquib.com

The only thing I’ve read recently is this novella by Italo Calvino. Calvino is just the bee’s knees as far as I’m concerned. I never cease to marvel at how he weaves a fabulously absurd tale out of the most implausible thing he can lay his hands on. Somehow his bluff always works

So this story is, as the title suggests, about a knight who doesn’t exist, by the name of Agilulf. I really sympathised with this character, although technically he didn’t exist, and I felt quite upset when he who did not exist ceased to not exist

‘Maybe too there came a point when this diluted will and consciousness of self was condensed, turned to sediment, as imperceptible watery particles condense into banks or clouds; and then maybe this sediment merged, by chance or instinct, with some name or family or military rank or duties or regulations particularly in empty armour, for in times when armour was necessary even for a man who existed, how much more was it for one who didn’t…’ (Calvino)

This is a wonderfully funny story and I still can’t shake the image of Agilulf in his pristine white armour, sitting at the paladins’ banquet, unable to eat or drink, but occupying himself by busily pouring wine from one goblet to the other and building perfect pyramids out of bread crumbs. And who can forget she of ‘harmonious moons, tender plumage, gentle flow’? Certainly not Raimbaud